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RILEY FAIRY TALES 





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RILEY FAIRY TALES 


By 

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 


With Illustrations by 

WILL YAWTER 



INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 



Copyright 1887, 1888, 1890, 

1892, 1893, 1894, 1896, 1898, 1902, 1907 
By James Whitcomb Riley 

Copyright, 1923 

By The Bobbs-Merrill Company 



Printed, in the United States of America 


AUC 31 '23 

©C1A711713 

*Vvo [ 


PS Z70 4- 

.r 3 

/9&S 





CONTENTS 


PAGE 

An Impromptu Fairy Tale ........ 7 

Christine’s Song.• . .10 

The Pixy People.. 12 

Jack the Giant-Killer . . . . . . . . .16 

Uncle Brightens Up.19 

Old Granny Dusk. 20 

The Jolly Miller.22 

Maymie’s Story of Red Riding Hood.25 

The Great Explorer.34 

Through Sleepy-Land.35 

A Home-Made Fairy Tale ........ 37 

Das Krist Kindel ..89 

The Bee-Bag.. . 45 

A Sea-Song from the Shore.. . 47 

The Little Dog-Woggy. 49 

A Bear Family ..51 

The King of Oo-Rinktum-Jing.56 

Granny. 57 

The Bear Story.60 

The Nine Little Goblins.68 

Her Poet-Brother.71 

Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze ..... 73 

Extremes 75 

Little Orphant Annie. 76 

The Man in the Moon.81 

Bud’s Fairy Tale. 84 

The Good, Old-Fashioned People ...... 95 













■ 



AN IMPROMPTU FAIRY TALE 

When I wuz ist a little bit o' weenty-teenty kid 
I maked up a Fairy-tale, all by myse'f, I did :— 

I 

Wunst upon a time wunst 
They wuz a Fairy King, 

An* ever’thing he have wuz gold — 

His clo’es, an’ ever' thing! 

7 




AN IMPROMPTU FAIRY TALE 


An’ all the other Fairies 
In his goldun Palace-hall 
Had to hump an’ hustle— 

’Cause he was bosst of all! 

II 

He have a goldun trumput, 

An’ when he blow’ on that, 

It’s a sign he want’ his boots, 

Er his coat er hat: 

They’s a sign fer ever’thing,— 

An’ all the Fairies knowed 
Ever’ sign, an’ come a-hoppin’ 

When the King blowed! 

ill 

Wunst he blowed an’ telled ’em all: 

“Saddle up yer bees— 

Fireflies is gittin’ fat 

An’ sassy as you please!— 

Guess we’ll go a-huntin’!” 

So they hunt’ a little bit, 

Till the King blowed “Supper-time,” 
Nen they all quit. 

8 


AN IMPROMPTU FAIRY TALE 


IV 

Nen they have a Banqut 
In the Palace-hall, 

An’ ist et! an’ et! an’ et! 

Nen they have a Ball; 

An’ when the Queen o’ Fairyland 
Come p’omenadin’ through, 

The King says an’ halts her,— 
“Guess I’ll marry you!” 



CHRISTINE’S SONG 

Up in Tentoleena Land— 
Tentoleena! Tentoleena! 

All the Dollies, hand in hand, 

Mina, Nainie, and Serena, 

Dance the Fairy fancy dances, 

With glad songs and starry glances, 
Lisping roundelays; and, after, 
Bird-like interludes of laughter 
Strewn and scattered o’er the lawn 
Their gilt sandals twinkle on 
Through light mists of silver sand— 
Up in Tentoleena Land. 

Up in Tentoleena Land— 
Tentoleena! Tentoleena! 

Blares the eery Elfin band— 
Trumpet, harp and concertina— 
Larkspur bugle—honeysuckle 
Cornet, with quickstep chuckle 
In its golden throat; and, maybe, 
Lilies-of-the-valley they be 
10 


CHRISTINE'S SONG 


Baby-silver-bells that chime 
Musically all the time, 

Tossed about from hand to hand— 

Up in Tentoleena Land. 

Up in Tentoleena Land— 

Tentoleena! Tentoleena! 

Dollies dark, and blond and bland— 
Sweet as musk-rose or verbena— 
Sweet as moon-blown daffodillies, 

Or wave-jostled water-lilies 
Yearning to’rd the rose-mouths, ready 
Leaning o’er the river’s eddy,— 
Dance, and glancing fling to you, 
Through these lines you listen to, 
Kisses blown from lip and hand 
Out of Tentoleena Land! 









THE PIXY PEOPLE 

It was just a very 
Merry fairy dream!— 

All the woods were airy 
With the gloom and gleam; 
Crickets in the clover 

Clattered clear and strong, 
And the bees droned over 
Their old honey-song! 

12 


THE PIXY PEOPLE 


In the mossy passes, 

Saucy grasshoppers 
Leaped about the grasses 
And the thistle-burs; 
And the whispered chuckle 
Of the katydid 
Shook the honeysuckle- 
Blossoms where he hid. 

Through the breezy mazes 
Of the lazy June, 
Drowsy with the hazes 
Of the dreamy noon, 
Little Pixy people 
Winged above the walk, 
Pouring from the steeple 
Of a mullein-stalk. 

One—a gallant fellow— 
Evidently King,— 

Wore a plume of yellow 
In a jeweled ring 
On a pansy bonnet, 

Gold and white and blue, 
With the dew still on it, 
And the fragrance, too. 

13 


THE PIXY PEOPLE 


One—a dainty lady,— 
Evidently Queen— 

Wore a gown of shady 
Moonshine and green, 
With a lace of gleaming 
Starlight that sent 
All the dewdrops dreaming 
Everywhere she went. 


One wore a waistcoat 

Of rose-leaves, out and in; 

And one wore a faced-coat 
Of tiger-lily-skin; 

And one wore a neat coat 
Of palest galingale; 

And one a tiny street-coat, 

And one a swallow-tail. 

And Ho! sang the King of them, 

And Hey! sang the Queen; 

And round and round the ring of them 
Went dancing o’er the green; 

And Hey! sang the Queen of them, 

And Ho! sang the King— 

And all that I had seen of them 
—Wasn’t anything! 

14 


THE PIXY PEOPLE 


It was just a very 
Merry fairy dream!— 

All the woods were airy 
With the gloom and gleam; 
Crickets in the clover 

Clattered clear and strong, 
And the bees droned over 
Their old honey-song. 



JACK THE GIANT-KILLER 


Bad Boy’s Version 

Tell you a story—an’ it’s a f ac’:— 

Wunst wuz a little boy, name wuz Jack, 
An’ he had sword an’ buckle an’ strap 
Maked of gold, an’ a “ ’visibul cap”; 

An’ he killed Gi’nts ’at et whole cows— 
Th’ horns an’ all—an’ pigs an’ sows! 

But Jack, his golding sword wuz, oh! 

So awful sharp ’at he could go 
An’ cut th’ ole Gi’nts clean in two 
’Fore ’ey knowed what he wuz goin’ to do! 
An’ one ole Gi’nt, he had four 
Heads, an’ name wuz “Bumblebore”— 

An’ he wuz feared o’ Jack—’cause he, 

Jack , he killed six—five—ten—three, 

An’ all o’ th’ uther ole Gi’nts but him: 

An’ thay wuz a place Jack haf to swim 
’Fore he could git t’ ole “Bumblebore”— 
Nen thay wuz “griffuns” at the door:. 
But Jack, he thist plunged in an’ swum 
Clean acrost; an’ when he come 
16 














JACK THE GIANT-KILLER 


To th’ uther side, he thist put on 
His “ ’visibul cap,” an’ nen, dog-gone! 
You couldn’t see him at all!—An’ so 
He slewed the “griffuns”— boff , you know! 
Nen wuz a horn hunged over his head, 
High on th’ wall, an’ words ’at read,— 
“Whoever kin this trumpet blow 
Shall cause the Gi’nt’s overth’ow!” 

An’ Jack, he thist reached up an’ blowed 
The stuffin’ out of it! an’ th’owed 
Th’ castul gates wide open, an’ 

Nen tuk his gold sword in his han’, 

An’ thist marched in t’ ole “Bumblebore,” 
An’, ’fore he knowed, he put ’bout four 
Heads on him—an’ chopped ’em off, too!— 
Wisht ’at Vd been Jack!—don’t you? 








UNCLE BRIGHTENS UP 

Uncle he says ’at ’way down in the sea 
Ever’thing’s ist like it used to be:— 

He says they’s mermaids an’ mermans, too, 
An’ little merchildern, like me an’ you— 
Little merboys, with tops an’ balls, 

An’ little mergirls, with little merdolls. 

19 







OLD GRANNY DUSK 


Old Granny Dusk, when the sun goes, 

Here she comes into thish-yer town! 

Out o’ the wet black woods an’ swamps 
In she traipses an’ trails an’ tromps— 

With her old sunbonnet all floppy an’ brown, 
An’ her cluckety shoes, an’ her old black gown, 
Here she comes into thish-yer town! 

20 







OLD GRANNY DUSK 


Old Granny Dusk, when the bats begin 
To flap around, comes a-trompin’ in! 

An’ the katydids they rasp an’ whir, 

An’ the lightnin’-bugs all blink at her; 

An’ the old Top-toad turns in his thumbs, 

An’ the bunglin’ June-bug booms an’ bums, 

An’ the Bullfrog croaks, “0 here she comes!” 

Old Granny Dusk, though I’m ’feard o’ you, 
Shore-fer-certain I’m sorry, too: 

’Cause you look as lonesome an’ starved an’ sad 
As a mother ’at’s lost ever’ child she had.— 
Yet never a child in thish-yer town 
Clings at yer hand er yer old black gown, 

Er kisses the face you’re a-bendin’ down. 





THE JOLLY MILLER 


It was a Jolly Miller lived on the River Dee; 

He looked upon his piller, and there he found a flea: 
“0 Mr. Flea! you have bit me, 

And you shall shorely die!” 

So he scrunched his bones ag’inst the stones— 

And there he let him lie! 

22 



THE JOLLY MILLER 


’Twas then the Jolly Miller he laughed and told his 
wife, 

And she laughed fit to kill her, and dropped her carving 
knife!— 

“0 Mr. Flea!” “Ho-ho!” “Tee-hee!” 

They both laughed fit to kill, 

Until the sound did almost drownd 
The rumble of the mill! 

“Laugh on , my Jolly Miller! and Missus Miller , too !— 
But there’s a weeping-wilier will soon wave over you!” 

The voice was all so awful small— 

So very small and slim!— 

He durst’ infer that it was her, 

Ner her infer ’twas him! 

That night the Jolly Miller, says he, “It’s, Wifey dear, 
That cat o’ yourn, I’d kill her!—her actions is so 
queer,— 

She’s rubbin’ ’g’inst the grindstone-legs, 

And yowlin’ at the sky— 

And I ’low the moon hain’t greener 
Than the yaller of her eye!” 


23 


THE JOLLY MILLER 


And as the Jolly Miller went chuckle-un to bed, 

Was Somepin’ jerked his piller from underneath his 
head! 

“0 Wife,” says he, on-easi-lee, 

‘‘Fetch here that lantern there!” 

But Somepin’ moans in thunder-tones, 

“You tetch it ef you dare!” 

’Twas then the Jolly Miller he trimbled and he 
quailed— 

And his wife choked until her breath come back, V 
she wailed! 

And “Oh!” cried she, “it is the Flea, 

All white and pale and wann— 

He’s got you in his clutches, and 
He’s bigger than a Than!” 

“Ho! ho! my Jolly Miller” (fer ’twas the Flea, fer 
shore!), 

“I reckon you’ll not rack my bones ner scrunch ’em any 
more!” 

Then the Flea-Ghost he grabbed him clos’t, 

With many a ghastly smile, 

And from the door-step stooped and hopped 
About four hunderd mile! 


24 



MAYMIE’S STORY OF RED RIDING-HOOD 


Wy, one time wuz a little-weenty dirl, 

An’ she wuz named Red Riding-Hood, ’cause her— 
Her Ma she maked a little red cloak fer her 
’At turnt up over her head.—An’ it ’uz all 
1st one piece o’ red cardinal ’at’s like 
The drate-long stockin’s the storekeepers has.— 
25 




MAYMIE’S STORY OF RED RIDING-HOOD 


Oh! it ’uz purtiest cloak in all the world 
An’ all this town er anywheres they is! 

An’ so, one day, her Ma she put it on 

Red Riding-Hood, she did—one day, she did— 

An’ it ’uz Sund’y —’cause the little cloak 
It ’uz too nice to wear ist ever’ day 
An’ all the time!—An’ so her Ma, she put 
It on Red Riding-Hood—an’ telled her not 
To dit no dirt on it ner dit it mussed 
Ner nothin’! An’—an’—nen her Ma she dot 
Her little basket out, ’at Old K^iss bringed 
Her wunst—one time, he did. An’ nen she fill’ 

It full o’ whole lots an’ ’bundance o’ dood things t’ eat 
(Alius my Dran’ma she says “ ’bundance,” too.) 

An’ so her Ma fill’ little Red Riding-Hood’s 
Nice basket all ist full o’ dood things t’ eat, 

An’ tell her take ’em to her old Dran’ma— 

An’ not to spill ’em, neever—’cause ef she 
’Ud stump her toe an’ spill ’em, her Dran’ma 
She’ll haf to punish her! 

An nen—An’ so 
Little Red Riding-Hood she p’omised she 
’Ud be all careful nen, an’ cross’ her heart 
’At she won’t run an’ spill ’em all fer six— 

Five—ten—two-hundred-bushel-dollars-gold! 

An’ nen she kiss’ her Ma doo’-by an’ went 
A-skippin’ off—away fur off frough the 

26 



* 

















MAYMIE’S STORY OF RED RIDING-HOOD 


Big woods, where her Dran'ma she live at—No!— 
She didn't do a-skippin ', like I said:— 

She ist went walkin' —careful-like an' slow— 

1st like a little lady—walkin' 'long 
As all polite an' nice—an' slow—an' straight— 
An' turn her toes—ist like she's marchin' in 
The Sund'y-School k-session! 


An'—an'—so 

She 'uz a-doin' along—an' doin' along— 

On frough the drate-big woods—'cause her Dran'ma 
She live ’way, 'way fur off frough the big woods 
From her Ma’s house. So when Red Riding-Hood 
Dit to do there, she alius have most fun— 

When she do frough the drate-big woods, you know.— 
'Cause she ain't feard a bit o' anything! 

An' so she sees the little hoppty-birds 
'At's in the trees, an' flyin' all around, 

An' singin' dlad as ef their parunts said 
They'll take 'em to the magic-lantern show! 

An' she 'ud pull the purty flowers an' things 
A-growin' round the stumps.—An' she 'ud ketch 
The purty butterflies, an' drasshoppers, 

An' stick pins frough 'em—No!—I ist said that!— 
'Cause she's too dood an' kind an' 'bedient 
To hurt things thataway—She'd ketch 'em, though, 
An' ist play wiv 'em ist a little while, 

28 


MAYMIE’S STORY OF RED RIDING-HOOD 


An’ nen she’d let ’em fly away, she would, 

An’ ist skip on ad’in to her Dran’ma’s. 

An’ so, while she ’uz doin’ ’long an’ ’long, 

First thing you know they ’uz a drate-big old 
Mean wicked Wolf jumped out ’at wanted t’ eat 
Her up, but dassent to—’cause wite clos’t there 
They wuz a Man a-choppin’ wood, an’ you 
Could hear him.—So the old Wolf he ’uz feard 
Only to ist be kind to her.—So he 
Ist ’tended-like he wuz dood friends to her 
An’ says, “Dood morning, little Red Riding-Hood!”— 
All ist as kind! 

An’ nen Riding-Hood 

She say “Dood morning ” too—all kind an’ nice— 

Ist like her Ma she learn’—No!—mustn’t say 
“Learn’,” ’cause “learn’ ” it’s unproper.—So she say 
It like her Ma she “teached” her.—An’ so she 
Ist says “Dood morning” to the Wolf—’cause she 
Don’t know ut-all ’at he’s a wicked Wolf 
An’ want to eat her up! 

Nen old Wolf smile 

An’ say, so kind: “Where air you doin’ at?” 

Nen little Red Riding-Hood she say: “I’m doin’ 

To my Dran’ma’s, ’cause my Ma say I might.” 

Nen, when she tell him that, the old Wolf he 
Ist turn an’ light out frough the big thick woods, 

29 


MAYMIE’S STORY OF RED RIDING-HOOD 



Where she can’t see him any more. An’ so 
She think he’s went to his house—but he hain’t,— 
He’s went to her Dran’ma’s, to be there first— 
An’ ketch her, ef she don’t watch mighty sharp 
What she’s about! 


An’ nen when the old Wolf 
Dit to her Dran’ma’s house, he’s purty smart,— 

An’ so he ’tend-like he’s Red Riding-Hood, 

An’ knock at th’ door. An’ Riding-Hood’s Dran’ma 
She’s sick in bed an’ can’t come to the door 
An’ open it. So t,h’ old Wolf knock’ two times. 

An’ nen Red Riding-Hood’s Dran’ma she says, 
“Who’s there?” she says. An’ old Wolf ’tends-like he’s 
Little Red Riding-Hood, you know, an’ make’ 

30 






MAYMIE’S STORY OF RED RIDING-HOOD 


His voice soun’ ist like hers, an’ says: “It’s me, 
Dran’ma—an’ I’m Red Riding-Hood an’ I’m 
Ist come to see you.” 

Nen her old Dran’ma 
She think it is little Red Riding-Hood, 

An’ so she say: “Well, come in nen an’ make 
You’se’f at home,” she says, “’cause I’m down sick 
In bed, an’ got the ’ralgia, so’s I can’t 
Dit up an’ let ye in.” 

An’ so th’ old Wolf 

Ist march’ in nen an’ shet the door ad’in, 

An’ drowl’, he did, an’ spilinge’ up on the bed 
An’ et up old Miz Riding-Hood ’fore she 
Could put her specs on an’ see who it wuz.— 

An’ so she never knowed who et her up! 

An’ nen the wicked Wolf he ist put on 
Her nightcap, an’ -all covered up in bed— 

Like he wuz her, you know. 

Nen, purty soon 
Here come along little Red Riding-Hood, 

An’ she knock’ at the door. An’ old Wolf ’tend- 
Like he’s her Dran’ma; an’ he say, “Who’s there?” 
1st like her Dran’ma say, you know. An’ so 
Little Red Riding-Hood she say: “It’s me, 
Dran’ma—an’ I’m Red Riding-Hood an’ I’m 
Ist come to see you.” 


31 


MAYMIE’S STORY OF RED RIDING-HOOD 


An’ nen old Wolf nen 

He cough an’ say: “Well, come in nen an’ make 
You’se’f at home,” he says, “’cause I’m down sick 
In bed, an’ got the ’ralgia, so’s I can’t 
Dit up an’ let ye in.” 

An’ so she think 
It’s her Dran’ma a-talkin’.—So she ist 
Open’ the door an’ come in, an’ set down 
Her basket, an’ taked off her things, an’ bringed 
A chair an’ clumbed up on the bed, wite by 
The old big Wolf she thinks is her Dran’ma— 

Only she thinks the old Wolf’s dot whole lots 
More bigger ears, an’ lots more whiskers, too, 
Than her Dran’ma; an’ so Red Riding-Hood 
She’s kind o’ skeered a little. So she says, 

“Oh, Dran’ma, what big eyes you dot!” An’ nen 
The old Wolf says: “They’re ist big thataway 
’Cause I'm so dlad to see you!” 

Nen she says, 

“Oh, Dran’ma, what a drate-big nose you dot!” 
Nen th’ old Wolf says: “It’s ist big thataway 
Ist ’cause I smell the dood things ’at you bringed 
Me in the basket!” 

An’ nen Riding-Hood 

She says, “Oh-me-oh -my! Dran’ma! what big 
White long sharp teeth you dot!” 


32 


MAYMIE’S STORY OF RED RIDING-HOOD 


Nen old Wolf says: 

“Yes—an’ they’re thataway”—an’ drowled— 
“They’re thataway,” he says, “to eat you wiv!” 
An’ nen he ist jump 9 at her.— 

But she scream ’— 

An’ scream ’, she did.—So’s ’at the Man 
’At wuz a-choppin’ wood, you know ,—he hear, 

An’ come a-runnin’ in there wiv his ax; 

An’, ’fore the old Wolf know’ what he’s about, 

He split his old brains out an’ killed him s’ quick 
It make’ his head swim!—An’ Red Riding-Hood 
She wuzn’t hurt at all! 

An’ the big Man 

He tooked her all safe home, he did, an’ tell 
Her Ma she’s all right an’ ain’t hurt at all 
An’ old Wolf’s dead an’ killed—an’ ever’thing!— 

So her Ma wuz so tickled an’ so proud, 

She gived him all the good things t’ eat they wuz 
’At’s in the basket, an’ she tell’ him ’at 
She’s much oblige’, an’ say to “call ad’in.” 

An’ story’s honest truth —an’ all so, too! 


THE GREAT EXPLORER 


He sailed o'er the weltery watery miles 
For a tabular year-and-a-day, 

To the kindless, kinkable Cannibal Isles 
He sailed and he sailed away! 

He captured a loon in a wild lagoon, 

And a yak that weeps and smiles, 

And a bustard-bird, and a blue baboon, 

In the kindless Cannibal Isles 
And wilds 

Of the kinkable Cannibal Isles. 

He swiped in bats with his butterfly-net, 

In the kindless Cannibal Isles 
And got short-waisted and over-het 
In the haunts of the crocodiles; 

And nine or ten little Pigmy Men 
Of the quaintest shapes and styles 
He shipped back home to his old Aunt Jenn, 
From the kindless Cannibal Isles 
And wilds 

Of the kinkable Cannibal Isles. 

34 



THROUGH SLEEPY-LAND 


Where do you go when you go torsleep, 

Little Boy! Little Boy! where? 

’Way—’way in where’s Little Bo-Peep, 

And Little Boy Blue, and the Cows and Sheep 
A-wandering ’way in there—in there— 
A-wandering ’way in there! 

35 


THROUGH SLEEPY-LAND 


And what do you see when lost in dreams, 
Little Boy, 'way in there? 

Firefly-glimmers and glowworm gleams, 

And silvery, low, slow-sliding streams, 

And mermaids, smiling out—’way in where 
They're a-hiding—'way in there! 

Where do you go when the Fairies call, 

Little Boy! Little Boy! where? 

Wade through the dews of the grasses tall, 
Hearing the weir and the waterfall 

And the Wee Folk—'way in there—in there— 
And the Kelpies—'way in there! 

And what do you do when you wake at dawn, 
Little Boy! Little Boy! what? 

Hug my Mommy and kiss her on 
Her smiling eyelids, sweet and wan, 

And tell her everything I've forgot, 
A-wandering 'way in there—in there— 
Through the blind-world 'way in there! 



A HOME-MADE FAIRY TALE 

Bud, come here to your uncle a spell, 

And Ell tell you something you mustn’t tell— 
For it’s a secret and shore-’nuf true, 

And maybe I oughtn’t to tell it to you!— 

But out in the garden, under the shade 
Of the apple trees, where we romped and played 
Till the moon was up, and you thought I’d gone 
Fast asleep,—That was all put on! 

For I was a-watchin’ something queer 
Goin’ on there in the grass, my dear!— 

37 



A HOME-MADE FAIRY TALE 


’Way down deep in it, there I see 
A little dude-Fairy who winked at me, 

And snapped his fingers, and laughed as low 
And fine as the whine of a mus-kee-to! 

I kept still—watchin’ him closer—and 
I noticed a little guitar in his hand, 

Which he leant ’g’inst a little dead bee—and laid 
His cigarette down on a clean grass-blade, 

And then climbed up on the shell of a snail— 
Carefully dusting his swallowtail— 

And pulling up, by a waxed web-thread, 

This little guitar, you remember, I said! 

And there he trinkled and trilled a tune,— 

“My Love, so Fair, Tans in the Moon!” 

Till, presently, out of the clover-top 
He seemed to be singing to, came, k’pop! 

The purtiest, daintiest Fairy face 
In all this world, or any place! 

Then the little ser’nader waved his hand, 

As much as to say, “We’ll excuse you!” and 
I heard, as I squinted my eyelids to, 

A kiss like the drip of a drop of dew! 



DAS KRIST KINDEL 


I had fed the fire and stirred it, till the sparkles in 
delight 

Snapped their saucy little fingers at the chill December 
night; 

And in dressing-gown and slippers, I had tilted back 
“my throne”— 

The old split-bottomed rocker—and was musing all 
alone. 


39 



DAS KRIST KINDEL 


I could hear the hungry Winter prowling round the 
outer door, 

And the tread of muffled footsteps on the white piazza 
floor; 

But the sounds came to me only as the murmur of a 
stream 

That mingled with the current of a lazy-flowing dream. 

Like a fragrant incense rising, curled the smoke of my 
cigar, 

With the lamplight gleaming through it like a mist- 
enfolded star;— 

And as I gazed, the vapor like a curtain rolled away, 

With a sound of bells that tinkled, and the clatter of a 
sleigh. 

And in a vision, painted like a picture in the air, 

I saw the elfish figure of a man with frosty hair— 

A quaint old man that chuckled with a laugh as he 
appeared, 

And with ruddy cheeks like embers in the ashes of his 
beard. 

He poised himself grotesquely, in an attitude of mirth, 

On a damask-covered hassock that was sitting on the 
hearth; 


40 





DAS KRIST KINDEL 


And at a magic signal of his stubby little thumb, 

I saw the fireplace changing to a bright proscenium. 

And looking there, I marveled as I saw a mimic stage 

Alive with little actors of a very tender age; 

And some so very tiny that they tottered as they 
walked, 

And lisped and purled and gurgled like the brooklets, 
when they talked. 

And their faces were like lilies, and their eyes like 
purest dew, 

And their tresses like the shadows that the shine is 
woven through; 

And they each had little burdens, and a little tale to 
tell 

Of fairy lore, and giants, and delights delectable. 

And they mixed and intermingled, weaving melody 
with joy, 

Till the magic circle clustered round a blooming baby- 
boy; 

And they threw aside their treasures in an ecstasy of 
glee, 

And bent, with dazzled faces and with parted lips, to 
see. 


42 


DAS KRIST KINDEL 


’Twas a wondrous little fellow, with a dainty double¬ 
chin, 

And chubby cheeks, and dimples for the smiles to blos¬ 
som in; 

And he looked as ripe and rosy, on his bed of straw 
and reeds, 

As a mellow little pippin that had tumbled in the 
weeds. 

And I saw the happy mother, and a group surround¬ 
ing her 

That knelt with costly presents of frankincense and 
myrrh; 

And I thrilled with awe and wonder, as a murmur on 
the air 

Came drifting o’er the hearing in a melody of 
prayer:— 

By the splendor in the heavens , and the hush upon the 
sea , 

And the majesty of silence reigning over Galilee ,— 

We feel Thy kingly presence , and we humbly bow the 
knee 

And lift our hearts and voices in gratefulness to Thee . 

Thy messenger has spoken , and our doubts have fled 
and gone 

As the dark and spectral shadows of the night before 
the dawn; 


43 


DAS KRIST KINDEL 


And, in the kindly shelter of the light around us drawn, 

We would nestle down forever in the breast we lean 
upon. 

You have given us a shepherd—You have given us a 
guide, 

And the light of Heaven grew dimmer when You sent 
him from Your side ,— 

But he comes to lead Thy children where the gates will 
open wide 

To ivelcome his returning when his works are glorified. 

By the splendor in the heavens, and the hush upon the 
sea, 

And the majesty of silence reigning over Galilee, _ 

We feel Thy kingly presence, and we humbly bow the 
knee 

And lift our hearts and voices in gratefulness to Thee. 

Then the vision, slowly failing, with the words of the 
refrain, 

Fell swooning in the moonlight through the frosty 
window-pane; 

And I heard the clock proclaiming, like an eager sen¬ 
tinel 

Who brings the world good tidings,—“It is Christmas 
—all is well!” 


44 


THE BEE-BAG 

When I was ist a Brownie — a weenty-teenty 
Brownie— 

Long afore I got to be like Ghilderns is to-day,— 
My good old Brownie granny gimme sweeter thing ’an 
can’y— 

An’ ’at’s my little bee-bag the Fairies stold away! 

0 my little bee-bag— 

My little funny bee-bag— 

My little honey bee-bag 
The Fairies stold away! 

One time when I bin swung in wiv annuver Brownie 
young-un 

An’ lef’ sleepin’ in a pea-pod while our parents went 
to play, 

I waked up ist a-cryin’ an’ a-sobbin’ an’ a-sighin’ 

Fer my little funny bee-bag the Fairies stold away! 
0 my little bee-bag— 

My little funny bee-bag— 

My little honey bee-bag 
The Fairies stold away! 

45 


THE BEE-BAG 


It's awful much bewilder’n’, but ’at’s why I’m a Chil- 
dern , 

Ner goin’ to git to be no more a Brownie sence that 
day! 

My parunts, so imprudent, lef me sleepin’ when they 
shouldn’t! 

An’ I want my little bee-bag the Fairies stold away! 
0 my little bee-bag— 

My little funny bee-bag— 

My little honey bee-bag 
The Fairies stold away! 




A SEA-SONG FROM THE SHORE 


Hail! Ho! 

Sail! Ho! 

Ahoy! Ahoy! Ahoy! 

Who calls to me, 

So far at sea? 

Only a little boy! 

Sail! Ho! 

Hail! Ho! 

The sailor he sails the sea: 

I wish he would capture 
A little sea-horse 
And send him home to me. 

I wish, as he sails 
Through the tropical gales, 
47 


A SEA-SONG FROM THE SHORE 


He would catch me a sea-bird, too, 
With its silver wings 
And the song it sings, 

And its breast of down and dew! 

I wish he would catch me a 
Little mermaid, 

Some island where he lands, 

With her dripping curls, 

And her crown of pearls, 

And the looking-glass in her hands! 

Hail! Ho! 

Sail! Ho! 

Sail far o’er the fabulous main! 

And if I were a sailor, 

I’d sail with you, 

Though I never sailed back again. 



THE LITTLE DOG-WOGGY 


A LITTLE Dog-Woggy 
Once walked round the World: 

So he shut up his house; and, forgetting 
His two puppy-children 
Locked in there, he curled 
Up his tail in pink bombazine netting, 

And set out 
To walk round 
The World. 

He walked to Chicago, 

And heard of the Fair— 

Walked on to New York, where he never ,— 
In fact, he discovered 
That many folks there 
Thought less of Chicago than ever, 

As he musing- 
Ly walked round 
The World. 

49 





THE LITTLE DOG-WOGGY 


He walked on to Boston, 

And round Bunker Hill, 

Bow-wowed, but no citizen heerd him— 

Till he ordered his baggage 
And called for his bill, 

And then, bless their souls! how they cheered 
him, 

As he gladly 
Walked on round 
The world. 

He walked and walked on 
For a year and a day— 

Dropped down at his own door and panted, 
Till a teamster came driving 
Along the highway 

And told him that house there was halted 
By the two starve- 
Dest pups in 
The World. 



A BEAR FAMILY 

Wunzt, ’way West in Illinoise, 

Wuz two Bears an’ their two boys: 
An’ the two boys’ names, you know, 
Wuz—like ours is,—Jim an’ Jo; 

An’ their parunts ’ names wuz same’s 
All big grown-up people’s names,— 
1st Miz Bear, the neighbers call 
’Em, an’ Mister Bear—’at’s all. 

Yes—an’ Miz Bear scold him, too, 

1st like grown folks shouldn’t do! 

51 







A BEAR FAMILY 


Wuz a grea’-big river there, 

An’, ’crosst that, ’s a mountain where 
Old Bear said some day he’d go, 

Ef she don’t quit scoldin’ so! 

So, one day when he been down 
The river, fishin’, ’most to town, 

An’ come back ’thout no fish a-tall, 

An’ Jim an’ Jo they run an’ bawl 
An’ tell their ma their pa hain’t fetch’ 

No fish,—she scold again an’ ketch 
Her old broom up an’ biff him, too.— 

An’ he ist cry, an’ say, “Boo-hoo! 

I told you what I’d do some day!” 

An’ he ist turned an’ runned away 
To where’s the grea’-big river there, 

An’ ist splunged in an’ swum to where 
The mountain’s at, ’way th’ other side, 

An’ clumbed up there. An’ Miz Bear cried— 
An’ little Jo an’ little Jim— 

Ist like their ma—bofe cried fer him!— 

But he clumbed on, clean out o’ sight, 

He wuz so mad!—An’ served ’em right! 

Nen—when the Bear got ’way on top 
The mountain, he heerd somepin’ flop 
Its wings—an’ somepin’ else he heerd 
A-rattlin’-like.—An’ he wuz sheered, 


52 















A BEAR FAMILY 


An’ looked ’way up, an ’—Mercy sake! 

It wuz a’ Eagul an’ a snake! 

An’-sir! the Snake, he bite an’ kill’ 

The Eagul, an’ they bofe fall till 
They strike the ground-— k’spang-k’spat! 
Wite where the Bear wuz standin’ at! 
An’ when here come the Snake at him , 
The Bear he think o’ little Jim 
An’ Jo, he did—an’ their ma, too,— 

All safe at home; an’ he ist flew 
Back down the mountain—an’.could hear 
The old Snake rattlin’, sharp an’ clear, 
Wite clos’t behind!—An’ Bear he’s so 
All tired out, by time, you know, 

He git down to the river there, 

He know’ he can’t swim back to where 
His folks is at. But ist wite nen 
He see a boat an’ six big men 
’At’s been a-shootin’ ducks: An’ so 
He skeered them out the boat, you know, 
An’ ist jumped in—an’ Snake he tried 
To jump in, too, but failed outside 
Where all the water wuz; an’ so 
The Bear grabs one the things you row 
The boat wiv an’ ist whacks the head 
Of the old Snake an’ kills him dead!— 


54 


A BEAR FAMILY 


An’ when he’s killed him dead, w’y, nen 
The old Snake’s drownded dead again! 

Nen Bear set in the boat an’ bowed 
His back an’ rowed—an’ rowed—an’ rowed— 
Till he’s safe home—so tired he can’t 
Do nothin’ but lay there an’ pant 
An’ tell his childern, “Bresh my coat!” 

An’ tell his wife, “Go chain my boat!” 

An’ they’re so glad he’s back, they say 
“They knowed he’s cornin’ thataway 
To ist su’prise the dear ones there!” 

An’ Jim an’ Jo they dried his hair 
An’ pulled the burs out; an’ their ma 
She ist set there an’ helt his paw 
Till he wuz sound asleep, an’ nen 
She telled him she won’t scold again— 

N ever—never-never— 

Ferever an’ ferever! 



A 






THE KING OF OO-RINKTUM-JING 


Dainty Baby Austin! 

Your Daddy’s gone to Boston 
To see the King 
Of Oo-Rinktum-Jing 
And the whale he rode acrost on! 

Boston Town’s a city: 

But 0 it’s such a pity!— 

They’ll greet the King 
Of Oo-Rinktum-Jing 
With never a nursery ditty! 

But me and you and Mother 
Can stay with Baby-brother, 

And sing of the King 
Of Oo-Rinktum-Jing 
And laugh at one another! 

So what cares Baby Austin 
If Daddy has gone to Boston 
To see the King 
Of Oo-Rinktum-Jing 
And the whale he rode acrost on? 

56 



GRANNY 


Granny's come to our house, 

And ho! my lawzy-daisy! 

All the childern round the place 
Is ist a-runnin’ crazy! 

Fetched a cake fer little Jake, 

And fetched a pie fer Nanny, 
And fetched a pear fer all the pack 
That runs to kiss their Granny! 
57 


GRANNY 


Lucy Ellen’s in her lap, 

And Wade and Silas Walker 
Both’s a-ridin’ on her foot, 

And ’Polios on the rocker; 

And Marthy’s twins, from Aunt Marinn’s, 
And little Orphant Annie, 

All’s a-eatin’ gingerbread 
And giggle-un at Granny! 

Tells us all the fairy tales 
Ever thought er wundered— 

And ’bundance o’ other stories— 

Bet she knows a hunderd!— 

Bob’s the one fer “Whittington,” 

And “Golden Locks” fer Fanny! 

Hear ’em laugh and clap their hands, 
Listenin’ at Granny! 

“Jack the Giant-Killer” ’s good; 

And “Bean-Stalk” ’s another!— 

So’s the one of “Cindered’ ” 

And her old godmother;— 

That-un’s best of all the rest— 

Bestest one of any,— 

Where the mices scampers home 
Like we runs to Granny! 


58 


GRANNY 


Granny’s come to our house, 

Ho! my lawzy-daisy! 

All the childern round the place 
Is ist a-runnin’ crazy! 

Fetched a cake fer little Jake, 

And fetched a pie fer Nanny, 
And fetched a pear fer all the pack 
That runs to kiss their Granny! 







THE BEAR STORY 


THAT ALEX “1ST MAKED UP HIS-OWN-SE’F” 

W’y, wunst they wuz a Little Boy went out 
In the woods to shoot a Bear. So, he went out 
’Way in the grea’-big woods—he did.—An’ he 
Wuz goin’ along—an’ goin’ along, you know, 

An’ purty soon he heerd somepin’ go “Wooh!” _ 

1st thataway— “Woo-ooh!” An’ he wuz sheered, 
He wuz. An’ so he runned an’ dumbed a tree— 

A grea’-big tree, he did,—a sicka-more tree. 

An’ nen he heerd it ag’in: an’ he looked round, 

An’ ’t’uz a Bear!—a grea’-big shore- nuff Bear!— 
No: ’t’uz two Bears, it wuz—two grea’-big Bears— 
One of ’em wuz—ist one’s a grea’-big Bear.— 

60 



THE BEAR STORY 


But they ist boff went “Wooh /”—An' here they come 
To climb the tree an’ git the Little Boy 
An’ eat him up! 

An’ nen the Little Boy 
He ’uz skeered worse’n ever! An’ here come 
The grea’-big Bear a-climbin’ th’ tree to git 
The Little Boy an’ eat him up—Oh, no !— 

It ’uzn’t the Big Bear ’at dumb the tree— 

It ’uz the Little Bear. So here he come 

Climbin’ the tree—an’ climbin’ the tree! Nen when 

He git wite clos’t to the Little Boy, w’y, nen 

The Little Boy he ist pulled up his gun 

An’ shot the Bear, he did, an’ killed him dead! 

An’ nen the Bear he failed clean on down out 
The tree—away clean to the ground, he did— 
Spling-splung! he failed plum down, an’ killed him, 
too! 

An’ lit wite side o’ where the Big Bear’s at. 

An’ nen the Big Bear’s awful mad, you bet!— 

’Cause—’cause the Little Boy he shot his gun 
An’ killed the Little Bear.—’Cause the Big Bear 
He—he ’uz the Little Bear’s Papa.—An’ so here 
He come to climb the big old tree an’ git 
The Little Boy an’ eat him up! An’ when 
The Little Boy he saw the grea’-big Bear 
A-comin’, he ’uz badder skeered, he wuz, 

61 


THE BEAR STORY 


Than any time! An' so he think he’ll climb 
Up higher —’way up higher in the tree 
Than* the old Bear kin climb, you know.—But he— 
He can’t climb higher ’an old Bears kin climb,— 
’Cause Bears kin climb up higher in the trees 
Than any little Boys in all the Wo-r-r-ld! 

An’ so here come the grea’-big Bear, he did,— 
A-climbin’ up—and up—an’ up the tree, to git 
The Little Boy an’ eat him up! An’ so 
The Little Boy he clumbed on higher, an’ higher, 
An’ higher up the tree—an’ higher—an’ higher— 
An’ higher’n iss-here house is!—An’ here come 
The old Bear—clos’ter to him all the time!— 

An’ nen—first thing you know,—when th’ old Big 
Bear 

Wuz wite clos’t to him—nen the Little Boy 
1st jabbed his gun wite in the old Bear’s mouf 
An’ shot an’ killed him dead!—No; I / ergot ,— 

He didn’t shoot the grea’-big Bear at all— 

’Cause they ’uz no load in the gun , you know— 
’Cause when he shot the Little Bear, w’y, nen 
No load ’uz any more nen in the gun! 

But th’ Little Boy clumbed higher up, he did— 

He clumbed lots higher—an’ on up higher —an’ 
higher 


62 


THE BEAR STORY 


An’ higher —tel he ist can’t climb no higher, 
’Cause nen the limbs ’uz all so little, ’way 
Up in the teeny-weeny tip-top of 
The tree, they’d break down wiv him ef he don’t 
Be keerful! So he stop an’ think: An’ nen 
He look around—An’ here come the old Bear! 
An’ so the Little Boy make up his mind 
He’s got to ist git out o’ there someway !— 



’Cause here come the old Bear!—so clos’t, his bref’s 
Purt’ nigh so’s he kin feel how hot it is 
Ag’inst his bare feet—ist like old “Ring’s” bref 
When he’s be’n out a-huntin’ an’ ’s all tired. 

So when th’ old Bear’s so clos’t—the Little Boy 
Ist gives a grea’-big jump fer ’nother tree— 

No!—no, he don’t do that!—I tell you what 
The Little Boy does:—W’y, nen—w’y, he—Oh, 
yes !— 


63 


THE BEAR STORY 


The Little Boy he finds a hole up there 
9 At’s in the tree —an’ climbs in there an’ hides— 
An’ nen th’ old Bear can’t find the Little Boy 
At all!—but purty soon the old Bear finds 
The Little Boy’s gun ’at’s up there—’cause the gun 
It’s too tall to tooked wiv him in the hole. 

So, when the old Bear find’ the gun, he knows 
The Little Boy’s ist hid round somers there,— 

An’ th’ old Bear ’gins to snuff an’ sniff around, 
An’ sniff an’ snuff around—so’s he kin find 
Out where the Little Boy’s hid at.—An’ nen—nen— 
Oh, yes! —W’y, purty soon the old Bear climbs 
’Way out on a big limb—a grea’-long limb,— 

An’ nen the Little Boy climbs out the hole 
An’ takes his ax an’ chops the limb off! . . . Nen 
The old Bear falls k-splunge! clean to the ground, 
An’ bu’st an’ kill hisse’f plum dead, he did! 

An’ nen the Little Boy he git his gun 

An’ ’menced a-climbin’ down the tree ag’in— 

No!—no, he didn't git his gun —’cause when 
The Bear failed, nen the gun failed, too—An’ broked 
It all to pieces, too!—An’ nicest gun!— 

His Pa ist buyed it!—An’ the Little Boy 
Ist cried, he did; an’ went on climbin’ down 
The tree—an’ climbin’ down—an’ climbin’ down!— 
An’-sir! when he ’uz purt’ nigh down,—w’y, nen 
The old Bear he jumped up ag’in! —an’ he 
64 



mmmm 









THE BEAR STORY 


Ain’t dead at all —ist ’tendin’ thataway, 

So he kin git the Little Boy an’ eat 

Him up! But the Little Boy he ’uz too smart 

To climb clean down the tree—An’ the old Bear 

He can’t climb up the tree no more—’cause when 

He fell, he broke one of his—He broke all 

His legs!—an’ nen he couldn’t climb! But he 

Ist won’t go ’way an’ let the Little Boy 

Come down out of the tree. An’ the old Bear 

Ist growls round there, he does—ist growls an’ goes 

“ Wooh!■ — woo-ooh!” all the time! An’ Little Boy 

He haf to stay up in the tree—all night— 

An’ ’thout no supper neever!—Only they 
Wuz apples on the tree!—An’ Little Boy 
Et apples—ist all night—an’ cried—an’ cried! 

Nen when ’t’uz morning the old Bear went “Wooh!” 

Ag’in, an’ try to climb up in the tree 

An’ git the Little Boy—But he can’t 

Climb t’ save his soul , he can’t!—An’ oh! he’s mad! — 

He ist tear up the ground! an’ go “Woo-ooh!” 

An’— Oh, yes!— purty soon, when morning’s come 
All light —so’s you kin see, you know,—w’y, nen 
The old Bear finds the Little Boy’s gun, you know, 
’At’s on the ground.— (An’ it ain’t broke at all— 

I ist said that!) An’ so the old Bear think 
He’ll take the gun an’ shoot the Little Boy:— 

But Bears they don’t know much ’bout shootin’ guns: 

66 


THE BEAR STORY 


So when he go to shoot the Little Boy, 

The old Bear got the other end the gun 
Ag’in’ his shoulder, ’stid o’ th’ other end— 

So when he try to shoot the Little Boy, 

It shot the Bear , it did—an’ killed him dead! 

An’ nen the Little Boy dumb down the tree 
An’ chopped his old woolly head off.—Yes, an’ killed 
The other Bear ag’in, he did—an’ killed 
All boff the bears, he did—an’ tuk ’em home 
An’ cooked ’em, too, an’ et ’em! 

—An’ that’s all. 







THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS 

They all climbed up on a high board-fence— 

Nine little goblins, with green-glass eyes— 

Nine little goblins that had no sense, 

And couldn t tell coppers from cold mince pies; 

And they all climbed up on the fence, and sat_ 

And I asked them what they were staring at. 
68 


THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS 


And the first one said, as he scratched his head 

With a queer little arm that reached out of his ear 

And rasped its claws in his hair so red— 

“This is what this little arm is fer!” 

And he scratched and stared, and the next one 
said, 

“How on earth do you scratch your head?” 

And he laughed like the screech of a rusty hinge— 
Laughed and laughed till his face grew black; 

And when he choked, with a final twinge 

Of his stifling laughter, he thumped his back 
With a fist that grew on the end of his tail 
Till the breath came back to his lips so pale. 

And the third little goblin leered round at me— 

And there were no lids on his eyes at all,— 

And he clucked one eye, and he says, says he, 

“What is the style of your socks this fall?” 

And he clapped his heels—and I sighed to see 
That he had hands where his feet should be. 

Then a bald-faced goblin, gray and grim, 

Bowed his head, and I saw him slip 

His eyebrows off, as I looked at him, 

And paste them over his upper lip: 

And then he moaned in remorseful pain— 
“Would—Ah, would I’d me brows again!” 

69 


THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS 


And then the whole of the goblin band 
Rocked on the fence-top to and fro, 

And clung, in a long row, hand in hand, 

Singing the songs that they used to know— 

Singing the songs that their grandsires sung 
In the goo-goo days of the goblin-tongue. 

And ever they kept their green-glass eyes 
Fixed on me with a stony stare— 

Till my own grew glazed with a dread surmise, 

And my hat whooped up on my lifted hair, 

And I felt the heart in my breast snap to, 

As you've heard the lid of a snuff-box do. 

And they sang: “You’re asleep! There is no board- 
fence, 

And never a goblin with green-glass eyes!— 

’Tis only a vision the mind invents 
After a supper of cold mince pies.— 

And you’re doomed to dream this way,” they 
said,— 

“And you shan't wake up till you're clean plum 
dead!" 



HER POET-BROTHER 


Oh ! what ef little childerns all 
Wuz big as parunts is! 

Nen I’d join pa’s Masonic Hall 
An’ wear gold things like his! 

An’ you’d “receive,” like ma, an’ be 
My “hostuss”—An’, gee-whizz! 
We’d alluz have ice-cream, ef we 
Wuz big as parunts is! 

71 




HER POET-BROTHER 


Wiv all the money mens is got— 

We’d buy a Store wiv that,— 

1st candy, pies an’ cakes, an’ not 
No drygoods —’cept a hat- 
An’-plume fer you —an’ “plug” fer me, 
An’ clothes like ma’s an’ his , 

’At on’y ist fit us —ef we 
Wuz big as parunts is! 

An’—ef we had a little boy 
An’ girl like me an’ you,— 

Our Store’d keep ever’ kind o’ toy 
They’d ever want us to!— 

We’d hire “Old Kriss” to ’tend to be 
The boss of all the biz 
An’ ist “charge” ever’thing—ef we 
Wuz big as parunts is! 



OLD MAN WHISKERY-WHEE-KUM-WHEEZE 


Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze 
Lives ’way up in the leaves o’ trees. 

An’ wunst I slipped up-stairs to play 
In Aunty’s room, while she ’uz away; 
An’ I clumbed up in her cushion-chair 
An’ ist peeked out o’ the window there; 
An’ there I saw—wite out in the trees— 
Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze! 
73 







OLD MAN WHISKERY-WHEE-KUM-WHEEZE 


An’ Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze 
Would bow an’ bow, with the leaves in the breeze, 
An’ waggle his whiskers an’ raggledy hair, 

An’ bow to me in the winder there! 

An’ I’d peek out, an’ he’d peek in 
An’ waggle his whiskers an’ bow ag’in, 

1st like the leaves ’u’d wave in the breeze— 

Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze! 

An’ Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze, 
Seem-like, says to me: “See my bees 
A-bringin’ my dinner? An’ see my cup 
O’ locus’-blossoms they’ve plum filled up?” 

An’ “ Um-yum , honey!” wuz last he said, 

An’ waggled his whiskers an’ bowed his head; 
An’ I yells, “Gimme some, won’t you, please, 

Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze?” 



EXTREMES 


i 

A little boy once played so loud 
That the Thunder, up in a thunder-cloud, 
Said, “Since 1 can’t be heard, why, then 
I’ll never, never thunder again!” 

II 

And a little girl once kept so still 
That she heard a fly on the window-sill 
Whisper and say to a ladybird,— 

“She’s the stilliest child I ever heard.” 

75 




LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE 


INSCRIBED 

WITH ALL FAITH AND AFFECTION 

To all the little children:—The happy ones; and sad 
ones; 

The sober and the silent ones; the boisterous and glad 
ones; 

The good ones—Yes, the good ones , too; and all the 
lovely bad ones . 

Little Orphant Annie’s come to our house to stay, 

An’ wash the cups an’ saucers up, an’ brush the crumbs 
away, 

An’ shoo the chickens off the porch, an’ dust the hearth, 
an’ sweep, 

An make the fire, an’ bake the bread, an’ earn her 
board-an’-keep; 


76 
























LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE 


An’ all us other childern, when the supper-things is 
done, 

We set around the kitchen fire an’ has the mostest fun 

A-list’nin’ to the witch-tales ’at Annie tells about, 

An’ the Gobble-uns ’at gits you 
Ef you 
Don’t 

Watch 

Out! 

Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn’t say his prayers,— 

An’ when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs, 

His Mammy heerd him holler, an’ his Daddy heerd 
him bawl, 

An’ when they turn’t the kivvers down, he wuzn’t there 
at all! 

An’ they seeked him in the rafter-room, an’ cubby-hole, 
an’ press, 

An’ seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an’ ever’wheres, 
I guess; 

But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an’ round¬ 
about :— 

An’ the Gobble-uns ’ll git you 
Ef you 
Don’t 

Watch 

Out! 

78 


LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE 


An’ one time a little girl ’ud alius laugh an’ grin, 

An* make fun of ever’ one, an’ all her blood-an’-kin; 

An’ wunst, when they was “company,” an’ ole folks 
wuz there, 

She mocked ’em an’ shocked ’em, an’ said she didn’t 
care! 

An’ thist as she kicked her heels, an’ turn’t to run an’ 
hide, 

They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin’ by 
her side, 

An’ they snatched her through the ceilin’ ’fore she 
knowed what she’s about! 

An’ the Gobble-uns ’ll git you 
Ef you 
Don’t 

Watch 

Out! 

An’ little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue, 

An’ the lamp-wick sputters, an’ the wind goes woo-oo! 

An’ you hear the crickets quit, an’ the moon is gray, 

An’ the lightnin’-bugs in dew is all squenched away,— 

You better mind yer parunts, an’ yer teachurs fond 
an’ dear, 

An’ churish them ’at loves you, an’ dry the orphant’s 
tear, 


79 


LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE 



An’ he’p the pore an’ needy ones ’at clusters all about, 
Er the Gobble-uns ’ll git you 
Ef you 
Don’t 

Watch 

Out! 



THE MAN IN THE MOON 


Said The Raggedy Man, on a hot afternoon: 

My! 

Sakes! 

What a lot o’ mistakes 

Some little folks makes on The Man in the Moon! 
But people that’s be’n up to see him, like me, 

And calls on him frequent and intimuttly, 

Might drop a few facts that would interest you 
Clean! 

Through!— 

If you wanted ’em to— 

Some actual facts that might interest you! 

0 The Man in the Moon has a crick in his back; 
Whee! 

Whimm! 

Ain’t you sorry for him? 

And a mole on his nose that is purple and black; 
And his eyes are so weak that they water and run 
If he dares to dream even he looks at the sun,— 

81 


THE MAN IN THE MOON 


So he jes’ dreams of stars, as the doctors advise— 
My! 

Eyes! 

But isn’t he wise-^ 

To jes’ dream of stars, as the doctors advise? 

And The Man in the Moon has a boil on his ear— 
Whee! 

Whing! 

What a singular thing! 

I know! but these facts are authentic, my dear,— 
There’s a boil on his ear; and a corn on his chin— 

He calls it a dimple—but dimples stick in— 

Yet it might be a dimple turned over, you know! 
Whang! 

Ho! 

Why, certainly so!— 

It might be a dimple turned over, you know! 

And The Man in the Moon has a rheumatic knee— 
Gee! 

Whizz! 

What a pity that is! 

And his toes have worked round where his heels ought 
to be.— 

So whenever he wants to go North he goes South , 
And comes back with porridge-crumbs all round his 
mouth, 


82 


THE MAN IN THE MOON 

And he brushes them off with a Japanese fan, 

Whing! 

Whann! 

What a marvelous man! 

What a very remarkably marvelous man! 

And The Man in the Moon, sighed The Raggedy Man, 
Gits! 

So! 

Sullonesome, you know,— 

Up there by hisse’f sense creation began!— 

That when I call on him and then come away, 

He grabs me and holds me and begs me to stay,— 
Till— Well! if it wasn’t fer Jimmy-cum-jim, 

Dadd! 

Limb! 

Fd go pardners with him— 

Jes’ jump my job here and be pardners with him! 




BUD’S FAIRY TALE 

Some peoples thinks they ain’t no Fairies now 
No more yet!—But they is, I bet! ’Cause ef 
They wuzn’t Fairies, nen I’ like to know 
Who’d w’ite ’bout Fairies in the books, an’ tell 
What Fairies does, an’ how their picture looks, 
An’ all an’ ever’thing! W’y, ef they don’t 
Be Fairies any more, nen little boys 
’Ud ist sleep when they go to sleep an’ won’t 
Have ist no dweams at all,—’cause Fairies —good 
Fairies—they’re a-purpose to make dweams! 

84 








BUD’S FAIRY TALE 


But they is Fairies—an’ I know they is! 

’Cause one time wunst, when it’s all Summer-time, 
An’ don’t haf to be no fires in the stove 
Er fireplace to keep warm wiv—ner don’t haf 
To wear old scwatchy flannen shirts at all, 

An’ ain’t no fweeze—ner cold—ner snow!—An’—an’ 
Old skweeky twees got all the green leaves on 
An’ ist keeps noddin’, noddin’ all the time, 

Like they ’uz lazy an’ a-twyin’ to go 
To sleep an’ couldn’t, ’cause the wind won’t quit 
A-blowin’ in ’em, an’ the birds won’t stop 
A-singin’, so’s they kin .—But twees don’t sleep, 

I guess! But little boys sleeps—an’ dweams, too.— 
An’ that’s a sign they’s Fairies. 

So, one time, 

When I be’n playin’ “Store” wunst over in 
The shed of their old stable, an’ Ed Howard 
He maked me quit a-bein’ pardners, ’cause 
I dwinked the ’tend-like sody-water up 
An’ et the shore-’nuff crackers,—w’y, nen I 
Clumbed over in our garden where the gwapes 
Wuz purt’ nigh ripe: An’ I wuz ist a-layin’ 

There on th’ old cwooked seat ’at Pa maked in 
Our arber,—an’ so I ’uz layin’ there 
A-whittlin’ beets wiv my new dog-knife, an’ 
A-lookin’ wife up thue the twimbly leaves— 

An’ wuzn’t ’sleep at all!—An’-sir!—first thing 
85 


BUD’S FAIRY TALE 


You know, a little Fairy hopped out there!— 

A leetle-teenty Fairy! — hope-may-die! 

An’ he look’ down at me, he did—an’ he 
Ain’t bigger’n a yellerbird —an’ he 
Say “Howdy-do!” he did—an’ I could hear 
Him—ist as plain! 

Nen / say “Howdy-do!” 

An’ he say “Fm all hunky, Nibsey; how 
Is your folks cornin’ on?” 

An’ nen I say 

“My name ain’t ‘Nibsey,’ neever—my name’s Bud 
An’ what’s your name?” I says to him. 

An’ he 

Ist laugh an’ say, “ ‘Bud’ ’s awful funny name!” 
An’ he ist laid back on a big bunch o’ gwapes 
An’ laugh’ an’ laugh’, he did—like somebody 
’Uz tick-el-un his feet! 

An’ nen I say— 

“What’s your name,” nen I say, “afore you bu’si 
Yo’se’f a-laughin’ ’bout my name?” I says. 

An’ nen he dwy up laughin’—kind o’ mad— 

An’ say, “W’y, my name’s Squidjicum ,” he says. 
An’ nen / laugh an’ say—“Gee! what a name!” 

An’ when I make fun of his name, like that, 

He ist git awful mad an’ spunky, an’ 

’Fore you know, he gwabbed holt of a vine— 

A big long vine ’at’s danglin’ up there, an’ 

86 


BUD’S FAIRY TALE 


He ist helt on wite tight to that, an’ down 
He swung quick past my face, he did, an’ ist 
Kicked at me hard’s he could! 

But I’m too quick 

Fer Mr. Squidjicum! I ist weached out 

An’ ketched him, in*my hand—an’ helt him, too, 

An’ squeezed him, ist like little wobins when 
They can’t fly yet an’ git flopped out their nest. 

An’ nen I turn him all wound over, an’ 

Look at him clos’t, you know—wite clos’t,—cause ef 

He is a Fairy, w’y, I want to see 

The wings he’s got.—But he’s dwessed up so fine 

’At I can’t see no wings.—An’ all the time 

He’s twyin’ to kick me yet: An’ so I take 

F’esh holts an’ squeeze agi’n—an’ harder, too; 

An’ I says, “Hold up, Mr. Squidjicum !— 

You’re kickin’ the w’ong man!” I says; an’ nen 
I ist squeeze ’ him, purt’ nigh my best , I did— 

An’ I heerd somepin’ bu’st!—An’ nen he cwied 
An’ says, “You better look out what you’re doin’!— 
You’ bu’st my spider-web suspenners, an’ 

You’ got my wose-leaf coat all cwinkled up 
So’s I can’t go to old Miss Hoodjicum’s 
Tea-party, ’s afternoon!” 

An’ nen I says— 

“Who’s ‘old Miss Hoodjicum’?” I says. 

An’ he 


87 


BUD’S FAIRY TALE 


Says, “Ef you lemme loose I’ll tell you.” 

So 

I helt the little skeezics ’way fur out 
In one hand—so’s he can’t jump down t’ th’ ground 
Wivout a-gittin’ all stove up: an’ nen 
I says, “You’re loose now.—Go ahead an’ tell 
’Bout the ‘tea-party’ where you’re goin’ at 
So awful fast!” I says. 

An’ nen he say,— 

“No use to tell you ’bout it, ’cause you won’t 
Believe it, ’less you go there your own se’f 
An’ see it wiv your own two eyes!” he says. 

An’ he says: “If you lemme shore-nuff loose, 

An’ p’omise ’at you’ll keep wite still, an’ won’t 
Tetch nothin’ ’at you see—an’ never tell 
Nobody in the world—an’ lemme loose— 

W’y, nen I’ll take you there !” 

But I says, “Yes 

An’ ef I let you loose, you’ll run!” I says. 

An’ he says, “No, I won’t!—I hope-may-die!” 

Nen I says, “Cwoss your heart you won’t!” 

An’ he 

1st cwoss his heart; an’ nen I reach an’ set 
The little feller up on a long vine— 

An’ he ’uz so tickled to git loose ag’in, 

He gwab the vine wiv boff his little hands 
An’ ist take an’ turn in, he did, an’ skin 
88 












BUD’S FAIRY TALE 


’Bout forty-’leben cats! 

Nen when he git 

Thue whirlin’ wound the vine, an’ set on top 
Of it ag’in, w’y, nen his “wose-leaf coat” 

He bwag so much about, it’s ist all tored 
Up, an’ ist hangin’ strips an’ rags—so he 
Look like his Pa’s a dwunkard. An’ so nen 
When he see what he’s done—a-actin’ up 
So smart,—he’s awful mad, I guess; an’ ist 
Pout out his lips an’ twis’ his little face 
Ist ugly as he kin, an’ set an’ tear 
His whole coat off—an’ sleeves an’ all.—An’ nen 
He wad it all togevver an’ ist th’ow 
It at me ist as hard as he kin dwive! 

An’ when I weach to ketch him, an’ ’uz goin’ 

To give him ’nuvver squeezin’, he ist fleiued 
Clean up on top the arbor! —’Cause, you know, 

They wuz wings on him—when he tored his coat 
Clean off—they wuz wings under there. But they 
Wuz purty wobbly-like an’ wouldn’t work 
Hardly at all—’cause purty soon, when I 
Th’owed clods at him, an’ sticks, an’ got him shooed 
Down off o’ there, he come a-floppin’ down 
An’ lit k-bang; on our old chicken-coop, 

An’ ist laid there a-whimper’n’ like a child! 

An’ I tiptoed up wite clos’t, an’ I says, “What’s 
90 


BUD’S FAIRY TALE 


The matter wiv ye, Squidjicum?” 

An’ he 

Says: “Dog-gone! when my wings gits stwaight ag’ 
Where you all crumpled ’em,” he says, “I bet 
I’ll ist fly clean away an’ won’t take you 
To old Miss Hoodjicum’s at all!” he says. 

An’ nen I ist weach out wite quick, I did, 

An’ gwab the sassy little snipe ag’in— 

Nen tooked my top-stwing an’ tie down his wings 
So’s he can't fly, ’less’n I want him to! 

An’ nen I says: “Now, Mr. Squidjicum, 

You better ist light out,” I says, “to old 
Miss Hoodjicum’s, an’ show me how to git 
There, too,” I says; “er ef you don’t,” I says, 

“I’ll climb up wiv you on our buggy-shed 
An’ push you off!” I says. 

An’ nen he say 

All wite, he’ll show me there; an’ tell me nen 
To set him down wite easy on his feet, 

An’ loosen up the stwing a little where 
It cut him under th’ arms. An’ nen he says, 
“Come on!” he says; an’ went a-limpin’ ’long 
The garden-path—an’ limpin’ ’long an’ ’long 
Tel—purty soon he come on ’long to where’s 
A grea’-big cabbage-leaf. An’ he stoop down 
An’ say, “Come on inunder here wiv me!” 

So 1 stoop down an’ crawl inunder there, 

91 



An’ inunder there’s a grea’- 


Big clod, they is—a’ awful grea’-big clod! 

An’ nen he says, “Woll this-here clod away!” 

An’ so I woll’ the clod away. An’ nen 
It’s all wet, where the dew’z inunder where 
The old clod wuz.—An’ nen the Fairy he 
Git on the wet-place: Nen he say to me, 

“Git on the wet-place, too!” An’ nen he say, 
“Now hold yer breff an’ shet yer eyes!” he says, 
“Tel I say Squinchy-winchy /” Nen he say— 
Somepin’ in Dutch , I guess.—An’ nen I felt 
Like we ’uz sinkin’ down—an’ sinkin’ down!— 
Tel purty soon the little Fairy weach 
An’ pinch my nose an’ yell at me an’ say, 
“Squinchy-winchy! Look wherever you please!” 

92 






BUD’S FAIRY TALE 


Nen when I looked—Oh! they ’uz purtiest place 
Down there you ever saw in all the World!— 

They ’uz ist flowers an’ woses —yes, an’ twees 
Wiv blossoms on an’ big wipe apples boff! 

An’ butterflies, they wuz—-an’ hummin’-birds— 
An’ yellerbirds an’ blue birds—yes, an’ wed !— 

An’ ever’wheres an’ all awound ’uz vines 
Wiv wipe p’serve-pears on ’em!—Yes, an’ all 
An’ ever’thing ’at’s ever growin’ in 
A garden—er canned up—all wipe at wunst!— 

It wuz ist like a garden—only it 
’Uz ist a little bit o’ garden—’bout big wound 
As ist our twun’el-bed is.—An’ all wound 
An’ wound the little garden’s a gold fence— 

An’ little gold gate, too—an’ ash-hopper 
’At’s all gold, too—an’ ist full o’ gold ashes! 

An’ wite in th’ middle o’ the garden wuz 
A little gold house, ’at’s ist ’bout as big 
As ist a bird-cage is: An’ in the house 
They ’uz whole-lots more Fairies there—’cause I 
Picked up the little house, an’ peeked in at 
The winders, an’ I see ’em all in there 
Ist bug gin ’ round! An’ Mr. Squidjicum 
He twy to make me quit, but I gwab him 
An’ poke him down the chimbly, too, I did!— 

An’ y’ort to see him hop out ’mongst ’em there!— 
Ist like he ’uz the boss an’ ist got back!— 

93 


BUD’S FAIRY TALE 


“Hain’t ye got on them-air dew-dumplin's yet?” 
He says. 

An’ they says no. 

An’ nen he says— 

“ Better git at 'em nen!” he says, “vnte quick — 
'Cause old Miss Hoodjicum's a-comin’!” 

Nen 

They all set wound a little gold tub—an’ 

All ’menced a-peeling’ dewdwops, ist like they 
’Uz peaches .—An’, it looked so funny, I 
Ist laugh’ out loud, an’ dwopped the little house,— 
An’ ’t bu’sted like a soap-bubble!—an’ ’t skeered 
Me so, I—I—I—I,—it skeered me so,— 

I—ist waked up.—No! I ain't be’n asleep 
An’ dweam it all, like you think,—but it’s shore 
Fer-certain fact an’ cwoss my heart it is! 





THE GOOD, OLD-FASHIONED PEOPLE 


When we hear Uncle Sidney tell 
About the long-ago 
An’ old, old friends he loved so well 
When he was young—My-oh!— 

Us childern all wish we’d ’a’ bin 
A-livin’ then with Uncle,—so 
We could a-kind o’ happened in 

On them old friends he used to know!— 
The good, old-fashioned people— 

The hale, hard-working people— 

The kindly country people 
’At Uncle used to know! 

They was God’s people, Uncle says, 

An’ gloried in His name, 

An’ worked, without no selfishness, 

An’ loved their neighbers same 
As they was kin: An’ when they biled 
Their tree-molasses, in the Spring, 

Er butchered in the Fall, they smiled 
An’ sheered with all jist ever’thing!— 
95 


THE GOOD, OLD-FASHIONED PEOPLE 

The good, old-fashioned people— 
The hale, hard-working people— 
The kindly country people 
’At Uncle used to know T 

He tells about ’em, lots o’ times, 

Till we’d all ruther hear 
About ’em than the Nurs’ry Rhymes 
Er Fairies—mighty near!— 

Only, sometimes, he stops so long 
An’ then talks on so low an’ slow, 

It’s purt’ nigh sad as any song 
To listen to him talkin’ so 

Of the good, old-fashioned people— 
The hale, hard-working people— 
The kindly country people 
’At Uncle used to know! 



XI 07 







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